


Day 6 - Affirm (Zutara Week 2020)

by Coot_34



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Dadko, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Momtara, Zutara Week, Zutara Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25631467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coot_34/pseuds/Coot_34
Summary: In which Zuko is a panicked parent and needs Katara's help, and Katara shares a special pregnancy moment with Zuko.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Mai/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60





	Day 6 - Affirm (Zutara Week 2020)

**Author's Note:**

> Had no idea what to title this and it could have worked for Day 5 (Hesitancy) as well, but I was only invited to join AO3 this morning so here it is. Katara and Zuko are not together in this one, and there is mention of Mai/Zuko and light romantic Aang/Katara at the end. Hope you enjoy this if you read it, and Happy Zutara week to everyone!!!

**Affirm –** _offer someone emotional support or encouragement_

* * *

* * *

  
The door swung open, just shy of hitting Katara. She'd been coming back from a walk about the palace, restless from the pull of the full moon over the Fire Nation. Its effect seemed double on her these days, and she'd pressed her hand to the gentle curve of her stomach with a smile. Maybe it was proof that she carried a little waterbender. She knew that was not Aang's hope – the hope of the Avatar, but still she saw images of a sweet girl with his eyes and her smile, ready to learn all the ways of the Southern Water Tribe. She'd basked in the moon's power for as long as she dared, and was just trying to make it back to her and Aang's room when the door blocked her path. When Zuko appeared from the other side, her eyes widened.

He looked terrible.

Well, that wasn't really true. His long hair was free of its usual imperial perfection. Deep lines under his eyes and a gravely panicked expression couldn't detract from his handsome appearance, any more than his scar ever did. If anything, the tell-tale signs of exhaustion only added another level of intensity to his looks, which didn't seem fair to or sit well with Katara. She'd gotten used to this uncomfortable feeling low in her belly when she looked at him at certain times, and knew it wasn't her child. Still, she placed a hand on her belly and waited, curiosity winning over her natural urge to snap at his rushing.

Her exhausted host held his newborn daughter in the crook of one arm. The other grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the princess's nursery, and without warning, Katara found herself holding a squalling infant in her arms.

Her maternal instinct took over almost before she knew what she was doing, and she bounced the little girl gently as she stared at the Fire Lord with a raised brow. Relief had flooded every line of his face, yet some shadow still seemed to lurk in his eyes. This wasn't how she'd hoped to meet the Fire Nation princess, but here they were.

With a frown, she turned her attention to the baby. Her hand slid to check the child. _Not wet._ Still bouncing, Katara once again found herself looking at Zuko. He only had eyes for his daughter, and a trace of softness had dimmed the shadows there.

“She may be hungry,” Katara said slowly, her voice just audible over the newborn's cries. “Where's -”

She stopped herself. She knew better than to ask about Mai. Her absence was answer enough, though Katara didn't understand how the lady could leave such a precious joy as her own daughter behind for any island under the sun.

“I'll go find a nurse.”  
  
She started to turn toward the door, but a motion from Zuko stopped her this time. Katara narrowed her eyes at him, not sure what to make of his stillness. She swaddled the child tighter in her bundle and switched to rocking her as her cries escalated.

In many ways, she'd understood the Fire Lord better than most over the years. She'd begrudgingly recognized an opposite but equal determination in him when he'd been her enemy – him, to capture the Avatar, and her, to protect him; his honor against her hope. And once, long ago, beneath Ba Sing Se, she'd touched his scar and shared something with him - strong enough to make her look back as she'd made away with Aang. It had been too new and shocking back then, yet it had been that same feeling that threaded her anger when he'd come to join them. It had lingered between them, unacknowledged and unnamed, and it was why she stood calmly now instead of marching to find at least one nurse to end Izumi's distress.

“Zuko, what's going on? She's probably hungry and needs a nurse,” she insisted. “Why did you drag me in here?”  
  


**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

_Fear._

Zuko swallowed the bitter truth and tried to give Katara an answer, but all he could conjure was a slight grimace. Two months ago, he'd cradled his daughter to his chest for the first time. He'd started as he stared down at his daughter, the fire of infinite suns shining from his eyes and burning beneath his breast. Here she was – the culmination of the peace and kindness he'd promised for his nation ten years ago. But then her little body began to fidget, and the rapid escalation of her breaths had led to her first plaintive cries. The nurses had whisked her away then, but his heart had been burned just as surely as his face. 

His uncle had witnessed it a week later. Uncle Iroh had held her, and she was happy. The world had never felt so right. It had been a perfect visit, until it was time for the princess to go back to her father. As soon as she got in his arms, she seemed to tremble with trepidation – and so did he. Uncle's movements were much slower than they had been, but his mind remained as sharp as a komodo rhino's horn. He'd offered him tea and words of wisdom. His letter hadn't been any different. 

_Fear can be a great deceiver, nephew. I am sure you already know not to let its lies lead you down miserable paths, especially ones that are so well-worn._

So easy for uncle to write. Much harder for him to do. He'd entered the nursery; ensured that Izumi was well-fed and dry before sending the nurses away. With some hesitation, his attending guards had faded from him as well. It was just him and the newborn princess. He'd held together an entire nation for ten years now. Surely, he could defend himself and his daughter in case of attack. Surely, he could hold his own child. 

He'd been attempting to do just that when the first strains of her wailing began. That was when he'd stalked to the door and ended his own panic by practically shoving his daughter into the arms of the startled waterbender. 

He watched Katara nurture her now, and his heart lurched. It wasn't fair for him to feel this relief, this calm now that Izumi was in such capable hands. He was the Fire Lord, and he'd worked hard to live up to every responsibility that his title entailed. It wasn't fair of him to place this one – his most important one – on Katara. She and Aang were not in the Fire Nation at his request, and he'd noticed her own condition when she'd approached him with a much gentler embrace than her usual enthusiastic hug. She should be sleeping right now, not demanding explanations from the leader of the Fire Nation. But in all these years working alongside the Avatar, Zuko had learned that 'shoulds' could never govern Katara on a mission – even one so little as this. 

She looked...radiant. 

He'd been thinking a different word, but shied away from it even in his mind. It was probably the well-known “glow” of pregnancy, or something to do with the full moon. Her hair was unbound and she was dressed for bed, but she didn't seem the least bit ready for sleep. Her eyes shined with unyielding righteousness, all for the sake of Izumi's needs, and he felt himself warm at yet another thing they had in common. In the face of her stare, he surrendered.

“She cries.” Zuko shut his eyes tight and dug his hand into his hair, his daughter's wails making him clench his teeth. “Every time I hold her, she cries.” 

When he opened his eyes, Katara was leveling him with an expression that made him want to glare and smile at the same time. Amusement gleamed in her eyes as she rocked Izumi, and in spite of the situation, Zuko could almost hear exactly what she would say next in his mind. 

_Maybe that's because she's a baby, your fieriness._

_So the big, bad Fire Lord can't take a little heat from an infant?_

She'd always enjoyed getting the best of him, but whatever she'd seen on his face, in his posture, must have tempered her natural response. Her glee was soon replaced with soft concern as she continued to eye him. 

“Zuko, I'm holding her right now and she's crying,” Katara tried, her voice not biting with sarcasm, but gentle. “Babies do that.” 

“I know!” He pressed his lips together and tried to gain control of his own tone. “I'm sorry. I just...she was fed and cleaned less than an hour ago. I know her hungry cry. But this...” Zuko shook his head, face crumbling as he looked away. “She only cries like this with me. I've tried, so many times, and she never fails. It's why I – I haven't even tried to hold her in a month.” 

As if to demonstrate, Izumi took a sharp breath, and her cries began to dwindle. Katara looked down at her with a grin, and Zuko was once again struck by how naturally it all seemed to come to her. She'd always born the brunt of caring for them when they'd journeyed around the world – not just with her healing, but with the right words; the right touch. That, she shared with Uncle, and Zuko felt a bit of his tension ease away as she cooed at his quieting daughter. 

“That's better. Hello, little princess.” 

Izumi hiccupped and Katara brought her up to her shoulder. She brushed her cheek against the soft, black fuzz of hair on Izumi's head – a gesture that he usually frowned upon when the nurses did it, but that only served to further soften him now. 

“Zuko, you're her father. She needs you.” 

The soft admonishment rocked him, and he looked at her face. She looked at his daughter the way he wished Mai would look at her – the way Hakoda and her mother had probably looked at her. She'd been born into this; bred into love as vast and deep as the seas. Surrounded by bracing winds and bone-chilling cold, her family – her people - had survived by the sheer force of their own warm bonds. She didn't know the bone-singeing heat of her own father's fire. She held the Avatar's child in her belly – water and air, a convergence of freedom and change. The pressure on their child would be immense, but with parents like Aang and Katara, they could only succeed. 

Zuko looked down at his own hands. She was quiet, perhaps sleeping, but he saw Izumi crying in his arms. Everything he'd accomplished seemed to scatter like ashes on the wind. What did Katara know about the demons lurking in his blood – the very same blood he shared with his daughter? 

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Katara eased Izumi back into a cradled position. She was fine, but Katara could tell that her father was not. His head was down; his shoulders slumped. After a long, silent moment, he looked up at her with shuttered eyes – looked beyond her to a past filled with smoke and sorrow. Instead of the proud, strong Fire Lord she'd come to know since the end of the war, a sixteen-year-old banished prince stood before her again. Katara stiffened, and a fierce look fixed itself on her face as he began to try to stutter through another excuse. 

“I – I'm not -” 

“No.” Katara shook her head and strode toward him, aware of Izumi's little chest beginning to rise with quiet, hiccuping breaths. Still, she refused to back down as she stood toe to toe with Zuko, unmoved by his stuttered words. “Don't you dare say you're not worthy, Zuko! Not after all this time. I've watched you work side by side with Aang to make so many strides for the Fire Nation. I know it hasn't been easy, but you've done an incredible job and the world continues to heal because of the Avatar. Because of _you_!”

Her strong words startled a cry from Izumi, and they kept coming as Zuko winced and looked away. 

“But blood can't be healed.” Zuko folded his arms. “In spite of all I've done for the Fire Nation, I am still Azula's brother. I am still Fire Lord Ozai's son, raised in lies and contempt. I'm sure you know where things stand with Mai right now.” It was Katara's turn to look away, her gaze focused on the teary babe she held. “Already, I'm in keeping with family tradition. What do I know about being a father? How can I be one, to her?” 

His bitter words settled over her, as contaminated and wrong as the waters in the fishing village. This was the boy in his first year as Fire Lord, begging the Avatar to take his life. At the time, Katara had seen how important that promise was to Zuko, and thought nothing of it. But as they'd walked the streets of Yu Dao, she'd realized her grave mistake. Caught up in her own new love with Aang, she hadn't seen Zuko's fears then. Now, she sensed them loud and clear, and they stung worse than ice daggers to the heart. She'd gotten used to his smiles, still small and hesitant, but growing with each visit. She enjoyed teasing them out of him, and being suffused with pleasant surprise and warmth when he tried (and typically failed) to tease her back. She was always so proud of Aang, and there was a special place of pride in her heart for Zuko, too, when they stood side by side after this negotiation or that successful venture. He was passionate and just, humble and kind after his own way, and...

Katara swallowed, aware that her blood flowed fast in her veins. She kept her eyes on the fussy princess as she forced it to slow, and cursed ridiculous Fire Lords with gentle grins and just hearts. When she spoke, her words were measured and clear. 

“You are those things,” Katara began, rocking Izumi as she lifted her gaze. “And you are Ursa's son. And you are Iroh's nephew. _Iroh's son_. And,” she said, holding out the moving bundle to him with a wise look, “you are _this_ little Fire Nation princess's father. You know everything you need to know, Zuko. You just need to hold her.” 

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Katara offered him a half-grin, and Zuko took only a few seconds to return it. He looked down at his daughter, the most important person in the world to him, and slowly, she passed from the circle of Katara's arms to his. His hold was awkward at first, but it soon adjusted to the tiny bundle that held his entire life in thrall. She felt more exhilarating than redirecting lightning, and just as dangerous. He and Mai were not on the best terms. In fact, theirs had always been a complicated relationship – a slow burning fuse of controlled passion that, more often than he cared to admit, ended in explosive pain. It had taken him some time to adjust to his duties as Fire Lord, and he remembered the bitter disappointment he'd carried as Ozai's son as much as he cherished the loving warmth of being Ursa's. And now, there was Izumi. What right did he have to bring her into this rigid and demanding world? Zuko froze, her tears and howls still charring his heart. Her life stretched before his eyes like the halls of the palace, foreboding and littered with shadows he could not make out ahead...

But Katara placed a hand on his bicep, and Zuko saw the fathomless well of trust in her eyes – a trust he'd earned, and continued to prove himself worthy of keeping. It hadn't wavered since the day of his last agni kai with Azula, and that fact never failed to strike him. Yes, redirecting lightning came with its dangers, but he'd learned the technique from Uncle. The same uncle who wrote frequently, and visited as often as his body would allow. The same uncle who he heard in Katara's words. 

He felt the tension unwind in his shoulders and chuckled to himself. He'd been a fool. Ten years as the Fire Lord, and he was still didn't quite know how to heed uncle's wisdom. He rocked Izumi, walked with her and with Katara's guidance, murmured to soothe her. She cried, yes, but in time, her bawling dwindled. His eyes widened as she settled in his arms and yawned.

Zuko marveled at his daughter. He shifted her to one arm so that her little hand could curl around one finger. He brushed one finger over her delicate cheek. She was so fragile – too fragile, but he knew that would not last. She would grow stronger, and build on the good that he'd started in the Fire Nation. She would be as quick and smart as her mother, with his fire to lead. And she would demand as much from the world as it would demand from her, perhaps more in her drive to right wrongs. For as much as she was Fire, he knew that she'd grow up with a heart bent towards justice and fierce love, like a certain brilliant waterbender who believed in him. 

“We really should get a nurse in here, Zuko.” 

He started and turned his head to look at Katara, who had a very satisfied smile on her face. He'd thanked her so many times before, but nothing seemed adequate now. He nodded.

“Thank you.” 

Zuko hesitated after that, thinking her smile both irritating and infectious. It was late, and exhaustion lured long-held thoughts into his mind as she stood there with her hair down and her eyes shining like her beloved moon. He used to stay up at night when they'd gone to bed, practicing firebending forms while wondering what it would be like to thread his fingers through that hair. He could still feel the warmth of her hand on his arm, and perhaps he wanted more of it. Worst of all, as she stood beside him with Izumi, he could see how lucky the Avatar was, to be found and kept by someone so...

Zuko sighed, then put an arm around her shoulders and brought her into his side for a hug. 

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

She'd hated to interrupt the moment, but Izumi's needs came above everything else in these small hours of the night. She'd crept up to him expecting his usual, gracious thanks, but found herself tucked into his side. It was her turn to start as she looked up at him. He'd always been more relaxed with them, but had rarely initiated hugs – particularly with her. He complained that she held on too tight, or held him just a little too long by Fire Nation standards. Katara knew all of this, and sometimes felt bad about her easy physical affection. But the truth was, besides Toph and maybe Mai, no one else needed more very good hugs. The fact that he'd pulled her into one tonight made her blink back tears, and her heart was full as she laughed and curved an arm around his waist. 

“Your uncle would be proud. You're a wonderful father.” 

Katara rested her head against his shoulder, her eyelids heavy as she yawned. The moon would give way to the sun in a few hours. She started to move away from Zuko, when they both felt a small but unmistakable tap between them. 

Katara gasped and her eyes widened as she looked up into Zuko's startled face. 

“Zuko!” 

She grasped the hand resting at her shoulder and pressed it to her belly. There it was again – the softest push back against his palm, as joy spread onto Katara's face. 

“The baby...they've never kicked like this before! Not so anyone else could feel it.”

“Then I'm honored.” 

They grinned at each other, and Katara was struck by the fact that they were standing there, together. The war seemed 100 years behind them, and imagining his face as anything besides friend, unthinkable – except, that wasn't quite true. Maybe she had held him too tight, or teased him too much in between the trials of healing the world. Even now, she thought his grin was all she'd wanted to see since she'd been dragged into the nursery. And she could only imagine the tableau they made, though it was absurd – a proud but exhausted couple, experiencing the joint joys of new and expectant parenthood. It was impossible, of course. Izumi was barely two months old, and Aang was the very air she breathed. Yet there had always been times with him, hadn't there? Shared looks, and a shared awareness that never failed to sneak up on them, subtle and intense. Just like now. She had yet to let go of his hand, and he had yet to move it. 

“Hey guys!” 

Katara turned her head towards the door as Aang's voice cut through the air. He smiled at them, but concern laced his eyes as he looked at Katara. 

“Is everything ok?” 

Katara gave him a tired smile. Withdrawing from Zuko, she threaded her arms around Aang's neck. He pressed his forehead against hers and circled her waist as she sighed. 

“Everything's fine. The baby is kicking!” 

Aang's eyes lit up, and if she'd had any energy, she would have laughed. He pulled back and spread his palms on her stomach, chattering excitedly even as Katara explained that it might not happen again that night. After he pouted, Katara rolled her eyes and cupped his face, bringing him down for a quick kiss on the lips. Then she turned back to Zuko. Oceans flowed between them as their eyes met.

“A nurse,” she said suddenly. “I'll get someone in here.” 

“No.” Katara frowned as Zuko smiled at her. “You need your rest, just like Izumi.” 

“Is that the new princess?” Aang moved forward, grinning at Zuko. He clasped him on the shoulder, and Katara watched her two favorite men gush over a baby girl. Healing was always fraught, and Katara enjoyed the thrill of a good waterbending fight, but these small moments were her true motivation. She patted her own stomach, ready to make more moments with the child she carried. 

“Get some sleep.” 

Izumi began working her way up to a full fuss, and Zuko's eyes held little of the panic that had driven him out into the hall earlier as he spoke. Katara was about to protest when Aang slipped his hand through hers and tugged gently toward the door.

“Come on. Sounds like it's been a long night.” 

Katara opened her mouth and another yawn slipped out. She and Aang moved toward the door, but she looked back over her shoulder just before she crossed into the hall. Zuko gave her a little wave, and Katara smiled. Yes, he'd be just fine. 

  
**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**   
  


Zuko watched Katara go, Izumi's wails an echo of his own feelings. With a sigh, he put them aside and began to bounce his daughter as he went in search of a nurse. His pulse quickened as her cries bounced off of the high ceilings, but he kept her, knowing that they would end. 

“Would you like to hear your grand-uncle's favorite tea joke?” 

He smiled down at Izumi – a full smile – and proceeded to recite it, perfectly. 

**THE END**


End file.
